


Walk Through the Valley

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: Loki's Children [1]
Category: CSI: Miami, Mythology
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Episode Related, Episode: s03e01 Lost Son, Fix-It, GFY, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 22:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11045634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: The space between moments can be a long journey. Speed just wishes it would take a little less time between drowning in his own blood and waking up. And maybe fewer people trying to tell him he's dead, and trying to get him to stay that way.





	Walk Through the Valley

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to theotherguysride on tumblr for encouragement and flailing over the story as I wrote it, and for giving me ideas for some of the deities involved and for the crow at the end.

Nothing hurts. He knows it should hurt, can feel his breath becoming short because blood is filling his lungs, and he knows it should hurt. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't feel like anything at all.

He can hear more shots above him, can hear Horatio calling for help, and still nothing hurts.

"I can't feel anything." He's not even sure if the words get out, but he has to try.

Horatio is telling him to keep breathing, but he can't catch his breath now at all. Can't feel anything, can't catch his breath, can't even really see Horatio. Dying. He's dying, and he knows it, and he can't stop it, no matter how hard he fights it.

_You can't. I can._

_We can, little sister._

_You're not dying today, pup._

There's nothing around him, light gone dark, Horatio's voice faded away, nothing but him and voices he doesn't recognize. One female, two male - one that seems deep and raspy, the other higher and sharp.

_He wouldn't be mine if he dies. I can't stop him if the others claim him, unless he refuses their call. So many others to claim him, if he'll let them._

"I can't die now. My team needs me." Speed doesn't know how he can speak, when he doesn't seem to have a body, but he can't not respond to the woman.

_You won't die now, in the space between moments._

That's Raspy, absolute certainty in the tone. Speed isn't sure what to make of it.

"Between moments?"

 _Time is subjective. What your friends will see as a moment can be a lifetime. A lifetime can be but a moment._ There's the impression of a shrug, a fleeting scrap of amusement.

It still doesn't make sense, except for the fact he's experiencing it. Whatever it is. Something better than dying, anyway. Even if it's just a dying hallucination.

He has the impression of something nipping at him, like a dog at his heels. _I'm real enough, even when no one can see me._

 _When so few believe we are real._ The woman again, all but speaking over the last words from Sharp. _Enough, though. Enough. You don't die today._

"How? I've been shot, I'm drowning in my own blood." He knows he is, even caught in this weird... whatever it is.

 _Don't let anyone claim you whose domain is death._ Another impression of a shrug, and a stronger sense of amusement, this time from the woman. _Until the next moment comes._

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Speed wishes he could throw up his hands in exasperation as he has the sense of the woman turning away, fading into the nothing around him. Raspy and Sharp are still there, silent bulwarks. "Either of you going to be helpful?"

More silence, and Speed would roll his eyes if he could feel them.

He doesn't know how long it is before he has the impression of movement, doesn't know how long he's waited when there's light and warmth, something that beckons and promises safety and rest. No more pain, no more fear, no more sorrow.

"Is anyone going to tell me what that is?" Speed blinks, and tries to look down at himself, only to see nothing. How he can feel a body again, and yet see nothing... he shakes his head. This place has not made sense since he fell into it.

_You are welcome here, as are all. Rest and paradise and all you could ask for._

The voice isn't any of those he's already heard, but something as warm as wherever he is, with an accent he can't quite place. Welcome, but underneath that welcome, something he can't place, and makes him uneasy.

"Unless it has my team, and our lab, and Miami? No, you can't give me all I ask for." Speed crosses arms he can't see, glaring at a formless voice. "I don't know who you are, or what this is, but I'm not staying here. I have a job to do. I need to get back to it."

_I cannot help you go back. Only forward._

"Than I'm not interested. Get out of my head."

The warmth and light slowly seep away, leaving Speed alone in the darkness that isn't really cold, but isn't warm either. Waiting for something to change, waiting for the next moment, whatever that is.

However long it is, the next place seems to be some sort of hall, with tables and a woman on a throne at the end. Fires burn merrily along a pit in the middle of the hall, and Speed is pretty sure there should be other people here.

_Welcome to my home, Tim Speedle._

"Um. No." Speed doesn't know who the woman is - very lovely, very appealing, but not someone he knows - and he really isn't sure about where he is. "Look, this may be a great place, but like I told the last person, I've got a job to do, and I need to get back to it. I don't have time for this."

Laughter echoes around him, and the hall begins to fade. _You have all the time in the world, but I shall not take what is not offered to me. I wish you luck, little warrior._

"All the time in the world. Great. Not helping." Speed wraps his arms around himself before it goes entirely dark and the sensation of having a body fades with the light. "How much more of this is there going to be?"

Although if they're all going to be encounters as brief as the ones that have already passed, it might not be entirely horrible. Just irritating, whether it's hallucination or real.

The next one starts with a pounding rhythm that resolves into hoofbeats, the dark only lifting enough to see the man approaching. Or at least Speed thinks it's a man, though last he knew, green was not a healthy color to be, unless it's makeup.

"Something tells me that isn't makeup." He shifts, feeling ground under his feet. Waiting for the man to get closer, studying him as he approaches on... a buffalo? Something horned and large and vaguely bovine, and Speed thinks it's a buffalo, just not one he's seen outside pictures and documentaries.

The green man has a rope, and Speed ducks when it's thrown at him, diving away from what's apparently some sort of lasso.

"Hey!" He glares at the man, who glares right back. "That's assault of a police officer, you know."

_What do I care for mortal designations? You are dying, and you belong to the realm of the dead. Where to send you? Perhaps back again, but this life is over._

"Actually, no, it's not. I've got a job to do, and I'm not going to abandon it just because some half-rotten guy on a cow says I have to." Speed isn't sure that antagonizing the man is a good idea, but sarcasm is almost instinctive a response to things he doesn't like hearing.

Laughter rolls around him, and the being gathers up his lasso again, fingering the rope as he watches Speed. _You don't make that decision._

"Yeah, I do. And I trust the lady who said that more than I trust you." Speed can feel a sense of pride coming from Raspy and Sharp, even though they don't do anything to help him. "So why don't you go back where you came from and leave me alone?"

_If she had claimed you, I would not be here. You can't say I have no right to you._

"Yeah, I can." Speed dodges another throw of the lasso, grimacing as he feels pain burn through his chest from the point where the bullet impacted. At least it's something, rather than nothing. "Whoever you are, I don't follow you, and you can't claim me."

He hopes those words are right, that those words work, because he doesn't like his odds of keeping ahead of that lasso.

_You don't know who I am? Did your mother never tell you?_

"If she did, I've forgotten, so piss off." Speed doesn't even try to bring up memories of his mother, of what she might have told him about her home and her gods. Better not to remember, and maybe give this guy a foothold.

The being shakes his head, watching Speed as he gathers his rope once more. _Another time, then. Ask your mother who I am._

"Right. I'll do that." Speed doesn't know if he'll have the chance, but maybe he will, when this weird ass dream is over.

Another shake of the head, and the man turns away, sensation and light fading as he rides off.

"One more down, I don't know how many to go. You guys don't happen to have any idea how many more incidents like this I have to get through, do you?"

 _As many as it takes._ Raspy seems to shrug, and Speed wants to huff and roll his eyes.

"Right. Until the next moment, whenever that is."

_Exactly._

"Thanks. You're very helpful."

Neither of them says anything more, and Speed is once more waiting in the dark for whatever came next.

* * *

Horatio can feel how thin and fragile the thread holding Speed to life is, even from the distance he's standing, watching paramedics working. Knows it hangs in the balance, but not sure which way it will tip, what will happen.

_He is strong. We won't let him die so easily, but he has to speak for himself._

He can all but feel his half-sister at his side, watching over his shoulder, a chill breath against his neck. He can't acknowledge her here, with so many others around, without drawing unneeded attention. It's still a comfort, of sorts, to know the others are watching over his team. That Jörmungandr and Fenrir must be with Speed in that moment outside of the usual flow of time.

_You need to clean his blood off your hands eventually._

Eventually, yes, he will need to wash the drying blood off his hands, but not yet. Not while Speed's life still hangs in the balance. He can't lose that connection until he knows which way events will tilt. Until he knows Speed will live, or that he is irrevocably dead.

* * *

Speed can feel sweat trickling down his back as he stands in a sunless desert, watching the black jackal that is sitting patiently in front of him, and has been for... a while. Silent and waiting, though for what, Speed still doesn't know.

"It's not like I'm going to follow you anywhere, you know." Speed at least trusts that here, he has to actually initiate movement, unlike in the dark, where he's been moved without actively taking action. "Unless you're going to take me back where I belong."

The jackal sneezes, shaking its head. _I will take you to Djehuti and the scales. There is nowhere else to go._

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm good." He can wait the jackal out, even in this sun, though the cool darkness is going to be really nice after this. Speed thinks he's beginning to get the hang of this. Keep denying whatever shows up until they stop showing up. Refuse to die, even though he doesn't know if it will do anything to prevent his actual death.

_Your heart would not weigh more than the feather. You would have paradise._

"I don't think you can actually promise that, and seriously, you guys keep thinking that I'm going to want to walk away from my job, from my friends, from my _family_?" Speed gives the jackal a long look. "You have a really screwed up sense of my personality, don't you?"

The jackal gape-grins at him, the sense of laughter all around him. _We can but try, justice-bringer. It is **our** job._

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that. I'm just hoping there aren't too many more of you."

_As many as the moment collects._

The jackal shifts, becoming a man with a headdress that suggests a jackal. He clasps Speed's shoulder a moment before walking away, the desert following him, and leaving Speed with his silent companions once more.

He moves again, and Speed wonders what's coming this time, if only for a moment. Sound comes first, the running of a river, soft lapping of waves at a shoreline. The crunch of gravel under the hull of some sort of vessel, all echoing from walls he cannot see.

Light comes next, flaring from a lantern held by a man standing at the prow of what looks like a barge. Not enough to reach the walls of the cavern, or even the far bank of the river that looks black in the dim light.

Speed digs his heels into the shard-strewn ground beneath his feet, shaking his head. "I don't have anything to pay you with, and I'm not getting on that boat."

The man with the latern chuckles, shaking his head. _I don't ferry those without payment. But those who do not pay me wander forever on the banks of the Styx._

"No. No. I'm not staying here, just because you want to play some sort of sick game." Speed turns away, trying to walk into the darkness beyond the circle of light from the lantern.

_And how are you to leave? You do not know the way._

"It's not toward you, and it's not toward that river, so away seems to be a plan." Not that he's finding any end to the gravel crunching under his feet, the river sounds never fading behind him, nor the light fading off like it should. A constant, no matter how many steps he takes away from river and ferryman.

 _Where do you think the cavern ends?_ There's a dark amusement in the ferryman's voice, and Speed turns to glare at him.

"It can't go on forever." He can see the disturbance of the gravel where he walked, but it seems to go right to the river's edge, and he knows he hasn't been in the river at all. "It's a cavern, it has to end somewhere."

_It ends on the other side of the river. When you're ready to pay the crossing._

Speed lets out a sharp huff, and turns away again, trying to run. Pain lances through his chest when he tries, and he stumbles, landing on his knees. He can feel dampness when he pushes to his feet again, blood seeping from cuts. Blinking, he stares at his hands a moment, seeing the cuts on them where he'd broken his fall.

Wet lapping around his ankles breaks his focus, and he turns to find the ferry closer, if less so than the river itself. Rising, refusing to let him escape so readily.

_Do you have the coin?_

"I'm not paying you, and I'm not crossing that river." Speed shakes his head, backing away from the ferry, trying to back out of the river, though it is rising as fast as he walks. Eddies swirl around his ankles, soaking his shoes and the cuffs of his jeans. "I have to get back to Miami."

_You're lost, and you are dying. You cannot go back._

"Bullshit." Speed turns again, walking at an angle toward the edge of the river, going downstream to minimize the resistance. He doesn't know how long he's walking before he begins to leave wet footprints on dry ground.

There is still no visible end to the cavern, still nothing but the lap of the river on gravel, and the scraping of the ferry on the same. A constant circle of light as he walks and walks. Knees sore from falling, feet and ankles wet with river water, chest aching with each breath. He knows that, at least, is probably from the gunshot, even though everything else is an illusion from this place.

The first change is the light, brightening and warming, before the gravel begins to give way to grass and soil.

_If you will not listen to me, than perhaps to her._

"To who?" Speed almost turns to give the ferryman a confused look, but he doesn't want to risk being trapped in that cavern again. He keeps walking, watching for someone else.

He begins to find trees, that overhang the river that is running brown and green against a grassy bank. Crows begin to appear in the trees, and Speed watches them warily. They tug at something in his mind, and he lets the memories be dragged to the surface. Something here is different than before.

There is a woman at the edge of the water where the river begins to run shallow, rounded stones visible through the water. A ford, with the trees thick with crows, and a woman who has a pile of clothes in front of her. His clothes, the bright blue shirt he'd put on that morning, and his jeans. And his gun. And his badge.

Speed pauses at the edge of the clearing around her, looking down at his clothes. The shirt is stained with blood across the front, a hole in it where the bullet struck him.

"Hello."

Around him, the crows chatter, raucous cries a momentary cacophony that is almost deafening.

_I see you._

"Ok." Speed doesn't know what to do, how to navigate this, and he falls back on his training, on dealing with victims and witnesses. Polite, and patient, and watching for anything that is evidence that points a particular direction. "Can I talk to you a moment, ma'am."

A low chuckle answers him, and the woman turns her head to look at him. _You may talk as long as you wish, son of my grandsons._

Speed hesitates a moment, than sits down rather than continue to stand. Not hovering over her, like he might a suspect or someone trying to get between him and evidence.

"Those are mine, aren't they?" He wants to reclaim them, but just reaching over and grabbing them seems to be too rude to actually do. But how to talk her into giving them to him?

 _Why would I have anyone else's armor and arms here?_ She tilts her head, a smile curving her lips, laughter dancing in the air like the cries of crows. _You don't need them right now._

"I would prefer to keep them." Speed particularly would like to have his badge back. Clothes can be replaced, and he knows he's not taking care enough with his gun for it to work. But his badge is still his, is still the visible symbol of his job.

_So would everyone whose armor and arms I wash. Why should I return yours?_

"I'm not ready to die. I still have work to do. Please." Speed isn't going to beg, but it doesn't hurt to be polite. Especially not when she's being polite in return. Patient, too. Patient as the ferryman, he thinks.

_There is no one who thinks they have done all they must do. There is always one more thing to do, one more reason to return to the living. Why should I return you?_

"I don't suppose saying I have friends who are relying on me would help?" They'd relied on him being able to do his job before, and he'd failed at least a little. "I know. Everyone does."

 _Not everyone, but many._ She reaches down, picking up his gun, her fingers light on the weapon. _You should take better care with your weapons, son of my grandsons. It does you no honor to leave it to rust and ruin._

"I know." Speed looks down at the ground a moment, before meeting her gaze again. "I'd say I'd do better, but I don't know if that would be good enough. It doesn't seem to stick, the effort."

_And who will pay the price next time?_

"I don't know." He can only hope it's not a witness or a bystander. Not someone who's only misfortune is being at the wrong place at the wrong time. "I can try."

He should have asked for help before, should have told Horatio or Calleigh that no matter how hard he tries, cleaning his gun always seems to fall by the wayside in favor of other things that must be done. It never seems as important as following the evidence in a case, or keeping up with his apartment or even just a night out with friends. Those he has.

The crows nearest him lets out a mocking cry, before taking off from the branch it's perched on.

 _Will you ask them? Will you tell them?_ Her gaze is as sharp as that of the crows around them. Assessing, weighing, and promising danger if he answers poorly. Dishonestly.

"If I can, ma'am." Speed looks up at the crows, then back at the woman. "I can't ask them if I don't live. And I want to live. I want to be able to tell Horatio I need help. To ask Calleigh for help."

Whatever it takes to get home, to keep any of these people from deciding to keep him. Telling them no has worked before, but this takes more. This is a promise that he'd like to be able to keep.

She is silent for a long moment, watching him. Still assessing, and he can only hope that he has done enough, said the right things, made the right choices. Because he doesn't know what else to do, save to grab his gun and his badge and go, and that. That feels like more danger than the jeweler's shop had been.

 _You are not done yet._ She sets his gun down again, with the rest, and his vision seems to waver, a dance of black feathers and wrongness that doesn't want to resolve for a long moment. Then there are only crows, all around him. _Take up your armor, your sword and your shield, son of my grandsons. Keep your promises, or I shall know, and to me, you shall answer._

Speed waits a moment before he moves, reaching for his clothes and the rest. It seems to take only touching them to be wearing them, to have his gun in its holster, badge on his belt. Blood damp across his chest, an ache there that settles in his bones and will not let go.

"Now, where to go from here?" He looks around at the crows a moment, before picking a direction. Away from the river, the sound of which fades away this time as he walks.

The trees become thicker, and conifers begin to appear between them, needles crunching under his feet. Ground tilting, becoming steeper, the crows now flying between the trees instead of roosting on them. Escorting him, but to where?

He's sweating in the cool air when he comes to another clearing, with a long wooden building in it. Roof tiled in wood, and an open door beckoning to him. Speed pauses, frowning at it.

_Enter and be welcome, oath-brother._

A man has come to the door, tall and pale, with a single gray eye that watches Speed with a sharpness that is as piercing as the woman before. Dressed as if he were a part of SWAT, though the image doesn't look quite right. Like it should be something different.

"If I do that, I'm not going to be able to go home. I need to get home." Speed stays where he is, crossing his arms over his chest. Shielding himself as best he can here. "Stop asking me to say I am. All of you. I'm not going to."

 _I know. Your thread is frayed, but not yet broken. I must but ask, as must we all._ The man pauses, then grins, beckoning him. _Come, I will walk with you, oath-brother. It shall make it easier to find the bridge, though you still must walk every step._

Speed narrows his eyes, studying the man a moment before he shrugs. "Lead the way."

The forest beyond the hall is darker and damper than before, the path full of tree roots. His guide doesn't seem to have any trouble with it, but Speed has to go carefully to keep from tripping. How long the path is, he doesn't know, though it is long enough that by the time they step out of the forest, he feels like he might collapse at any moment.

_There. The bridge awaits you, oath-brother. Walk it, and wake. Perhaps we shall meet again._

"Not anytime soon, I hope."

How he keeps on his feet to the bridge, and the man who guards it - whose form wavers and dances in the brilliant light that comes from the bridge itself - Speed doesn't know, only that he does. That he staggers onto the bridge, up and up to a peak, before tripping, and falling, sliding down the far side.

* * *

Everything hurts. His chest the most, but everything else, down to his toes hurts. Speed is certain that even his _hair_ hurts right now, and there are no nerve endings in hair to hurt.

It's dark, but this is the dark of somewhere, not nowhere. He pries his eyelids open with an effort, squinting into the dim light of a hospital room with the blinds shut. Someone is sitting in a chair next to his bed, and it takes a long moment for him to put a name to the person.

"Horatio." His voice is a thready whisper, and trying to talk makes his chest hurt more, but it gets Horatio to look up instead of down at the floor.

"Speed." There's a gentle smile on his boss's face. "You're awake."

"Alive." Speed still isn't sure how, and he doesn't know how the whole weird trip that is still vividly painted across his memory ties into his still being alive. Just that he has a bone-deep certainty that it does.

"Yes, you are." Horatio stands up, coming closer to the bed, and picking up something from the table. Holding a cup with a straw, and Speed is glad for the water, sipping it carefully and letting it ease the parched feeling in his throat. "I'll go tell the others you're awake."

Speed tries to reach out a hand, grimacing as pain lances through him again at the movement. "Wait. The boy."

"We found him. He's safe." Horatio smiles again, and Speed lets himself relax, to just lie there and rest while his team comes into the room. Eric, who looks a little lost when he comes in, and smiles to see Speed awake. Calleigh, whose smile is a little reproving, but he can only imagine she's already seen the inside of his gun. His failure. Alexx is behind her, and still the first to lean over and give him a hug.

"Don't scare us like that, Timmy."

She'd have done his autopsy, if he'd died. If he hadn't fought each step of the way, each new face telling him that this was the end. Had stopped trying to out-walk a rising river, or failed to convince a woman and her crows that he was worth letting live.

And winging in behind them, a crow that perches at the foot of his bed, watching him with dark eyes. Waiting, to make sure he keeps his promise.

"Calleigh." He grimaces, looking at the crow for a long moment before he can look up to meet Calleigh's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" She frowns a little, though she comes closer, so he doesn't have to speak very loudly. Can whisper, if he wanted to.

"My gun." He closes his eyes a moment before opening them to look at the ceiling. He has to tell them, but he can't bring himself to look at them while he does. It's easier, to speak to the ceiling. "I keep not cleaning it. I tell myself I need to, and I forget. Something else always comes up to distract me."

Not just letting himself be distracted, but never managing, no matter how hard he tries, to remember to just sit down and do it.

"I don't know how to stop doing that." And that's the worst part. He doesn't know how to stop failing to do this one thing. Knows that he needs help, and he hasn't been able to ask for it.

"Hey." Horatio meets his gaze when Speed manages to look at him. "You worry about getting better, Speed. We'll take care of the rest."

"I need more than just a kit." He needs more than to be left to his own memory to get the gun cleaned regularly.

"We'll figure it out." Horatio glances at the rest of the team, including them in the sentiment. "Everything's going to be ok."


End file.
